


Autoclave

by Figgyfan14



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings to be in Notes, Alternate Universe, Dark!Harry, Eventual Harry/Tom, Fluff? Maybe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible underage sex, Smut? Maybe, Young!Harry, light bashing, songfic-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:16:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Figgyfan14/pseuds/Figgyfan14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I dreamt that I was perched atop a throne of human skulls/on a cliff above the ocean, howling wind and screaming seagulls/and the dream went on forever/one single static frame/sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name"<br/>A fic based on my love of the song Autoclave by The Mountain Goats in which Harry sides with the Dark from an early age and just might have what it takes to save the Dark, as well as its Lord.<br/>Tom Riddle is an Autoclave, and he knows it, but will Harry let himself be sterilized by the brutal man? Not if his stubborn self has anything to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on my love of the song "Autoclave" by The Mountain Goats. My own interpretation of lyrics will be found here-in, and I kindly request that anyone who has any issues with the song, or songfics in general, please do not read this, as it will likely not be your cup of tea. That shouldn't take effect for some chapters now, though. Special shoutout to anyone whom I previously pissed off with my incorrect reference, that I have now fixed after reading over what I had typed here while my brain was on autopilot earlier. All Hail The Mountain Goats for this lovely song.

It was just 3 months after his birthday when it happened. There was never a good time for these things to happen, but with Harry being a - nearly - average five year old, on Halloween night was certainly a bad time for it.

 

He had been allowed to trick-or-treat with Dudley that year. This hadn't been something he expected, because the year before he'd been left with old Mrs. Figg, but when she came down sick that very morning, the Dursleys had no better choices. And that was how Harry Potter found himself thoroughly lost and alone and scared out of his wits in a small neighborhood of Surrey, surrounded by frights that jumped out at him and people that thought it funny to tease and terrify a poor little child.

 

He had just wandered a short distance behind Dudley and Petunia, and his Aunt had apparently not been paying the best attention…. The next thing he knew, he could see nothing but unfamiliar faces and frightening costumes. And then something far more sinister happened, and he was grabbed from behind, feeling like he was sucked into a wormhole by his bellybutton. And all went black.

 

***

 

“Can you believe it? Just wandering around! On tonight of all nights!”

 

“I don't think you should have brought him here, Severus. There must be some explanation. If anyone found out-”

 

“Damn them all! He- he has Lily's eyes, Lucius, and he looks so like her when we were young… And Albus lied about him. We were all told that he was left in responsible hands and was treated as well as any pureblood heir deserved, and I found him crying in a bush in Surrey of all places!”

 

There was a pause and then a sigh, before a woman spoke.

 

“Lucius… he's been very obviously abused and malnourished. Even just the preliminary scans I ran were… disheartening at best. I know this boy is… not the most welcome among our circles at the moment. But no magical child can be allowed to live in such a state because of  muggles .”

 

Harry blinked his eyes open in time to see the blonde woman above him sneer at the thought of such. What a muggle was, he didn't know, and who were these people anyways? He was laying on what felt like a cloud, though, and was so, so warm that… he couldn't bring himself to be scared at all. Which was another new experience, when thinking of the tones of voice these adults were using. Usually that tone meant a whipping, but these people… He could see the prettiest lights coming from them, and they were so comforting, and this soft soft bed was so warm. The boy found himself smiling up at them and blinking slowly.

 

“He's awake.” The blonde woman sighed in relief and smiled softly at the boy, though Lucius could see the pain in her eyes as she ran a hand through the abused boy's hair. “Harry, darling, my name is Narcissa. You can call me Aunt Cissa. How are you feeling, dear?”

 

Harry frowned and wrinkled his nose. “I don't know who you are, and Aunt Petunia says not to talk to strangers… but I don't think you're a stranger if you know my name, right? I only just learned my name when I started school anyways. Does that mean you aren't a stranger?” He looked between the three of them, blinking curiously as he sat up. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there, and all he really remembers just before that was the squeezing feeling of being tugged through a tube by his belly button. It had not been pleasant. But everything here had been so far, and he even felt like his sore back and bum were not quite as sore as they had been. They weren't sore at all, now that he thought about it. That was a new and nice feeling for him. He felt more inclined to talk to the sparkly people the longer be spent with them.

 

Narcissa looked to Lucius, who could see her heart breaking for the kid, and they both knew there was no going back now. Even Severus, as he watched the boy more, felt his cold heart thawing towards him. He stepped forward now. “No, Harry, we aren't strangers. I was… A very dear friend of your mother's. My name is Severus. And I found you tonight when you were crying. Can you tell me why you were alone and crying, Harry?”

 

He watched the boy fidget and felt anger at Petunia renew itself inside him. As well as anger at Dumbledore, for that matter. How could he have let the man have his way on things? Why had he trusted Hagrid with Harry instead of taking him himself? But the child seemed to feel the stares of the trio on him, even with his gaze firmly on his fidgeting hands, and he eventually responded.

 

“I was Trix and Treatsing with Dudley… but I got lost… and people s-scared me…” he mumbled most of it, and his breathing hitched at the end as he remembered the ghouls and goblins he'd encountered. The reasons for his crying, of course. It wasn't that he wanted to go back to his Aunt and Uncle. He was scared of Vernon, and Aunt Petunia didn't feed him very much, and they didn't have the beautiful glows that seemed to emanate from the people here… But he had been alone and scared. It was natural for a child.

 

Lucius decided it was time for him to step in when the small boy began to whimper, and he tipped Harry's chin up gently, slowing his movements when the boy noticeably flinched. He frowned at that reflex, and then smoothed out his face as he brought the child's head up so they were making eye contact. Letting out a soothing pulse of magic, Lucius crept into the mindscape of the young Potter.

He had seen a lot in his time, but he had never seen treatment of a child in the manner that this one had seen since age two. Mistreatment of a magical child in such a way would earn you death when you were as unlucky as to inflict it upon a child of the Dark. He was distracted before his own thoughts could bleed through in anger, though, by the way the child saw them. He was seeing their magical cores, it would appear, Lucius’s being a grey-blue glow, Severus having a rather rusty orange, and Narcissa having a slightly smaller core of silver with pink flecks. How odd it was to see them, and he pulled out of the boy's head slowly, blinking and finding himself smiling at the small child. The ravenette tilted his head slightly when their minds were separated and seemed to pout a bit.

 

“Why did you leave? You have a nice mind. It's calm. Even when Uncle Vernon was yelling…” he frowned more at that thought but then looked back to at the confused faces with a smile. “Can we do it again? It was nice to not be scared of him!” He piped up and seemed rather excited, even as the faces went from puzzled to incredulous.

 

“No, Harry, I don't think we should do that again today.” Narcissa started, smiling softly at the now petulant child. “But would you like to maybe stay here for a little while? You could meet our son Draco in the morning.” She didn't know how to tell the boy that he was never ever going to see those people again. So she thought starting with just one day at a time would help.

  
And one day lead to two, and then a week, and Uncle Severus was showing both boys how to carefully store potion ingredients, and Narcissa was whispering healing magic over scraped knees, and Harry's nightmares faded, and Draco was being a big tough brother when Goyle or Crabb would get annoyed and pushed Harry down, leading to some rather rough fights that Draco won with vigor. And they grew. And they learned politics together, reading the newspaper with Lucius, and how to keep themselves alive even without magic from Narcissa, and how to cook with Severus. And they grew some more. And they had tutors and friendships developed and alliances were made. And they grew some more. Until  he came when Draco's 11th birthday was but a week away. And it changed everything.


	2. The Quirrell Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *parseltongue*  
> •mental speaking•

Quirinus Quirrell.

The Ravenclaw had been a year or two behind Lucius in school, and they had never been close, though they had served the Dark Lord together. And when he showed up on their doorstep, dazed and confused, on the 5th of December, Lucius was rather unsure on the safety of letting him enter their home. At least, until the other pulled back his left sleeve to show the deep black of the Dark Mark on his arm, at which point Lucius ushered him quickly inside. They boys were on the Quidditch pitch, and he didn't want them to come running in on them, especially not until he had revealed how wonderfully Dark magicked Harry was to the other.

Bellatrix, though she was hiding from the law, had taken a shine to the boy the moment her sister had shown him off, especially when her bit of Legilimency revealed his disposition for strong Dark magics, and even his natural Dark ability of seeing magical cores. It was good they'd gotten to him before anyone from the Light had, or that probably would have been locked away inside him. Bella had pulled out of his mind in a fit of giggles, grabbing the boy and twirling him around in delight, her eyes sparkling with the tinge of Black madness. They had had to catch her to get the boy back after that, and Harry had thought this was wonderful fun, but for some reason Lucius felt that this time… Quirrell wouldn't take news of Harry Potter being on their side well. Not without some sort of explanation first.

When they were safely in his office, tea on the way and water in Quirrell’s quivering hand, Lucius sat in front of the younger patiently, wondering at the turban he wore and the odd demeanor of the man. “Your visit is quite the surprise, Quirinus. Might I inquire as to the reason for the sudden call?” He started, watching as the man drank his water gratefully, emptying the cup.

“I…” he coughed and frowned to himself. “I came to show you something important. And request your assistance on a matter pertaining to a mutual… acquaintance.”

Lucius nodded, pouring tea for them both when it arrived. “I shall assist you in any manner necessary.” It had been a while since he had needed to speak those words. Nearly ten years now, if he recalled correctly. It was the proper form of agreement used among the Dark Lord's most loyal. He was almost chilled to say those words, glancing at the other's arm as he remembered the darkness that was absent from his own faded mark. “And the task you need help with?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Quirrell didn't have the words to explain right off, so he turned, removing his turban. “Lucius… just like you asked, my Lord…” he said, seemingly to himself, until the turban was fully unwrapped and the face of Voldemort was revealed on the back of the other man’s head, bringing Lucius swiftly to his knees in respect. He didn't even question how, knowing his master to be a great spell craft and runes worker, and merely dropped into a low bow.

“Ahh, yesss… Lucius… I ssee you have not forgotten our waysss… I have heard, however, some… rumourssss.” The Dark Lord didn't sound like himself, the serpentine voice almost sounding like he had been speaking Parseltongue for a long period of time and didn't quite have time to stop speaking as such. Lucius was almost scared to reply.

“My Lord… I am sure that you have. You see… The Potter boy, the one that is the reason for your state. He has… Been brought up in the Dark. He has shown a great deal of potential, my Lord, he sees magical cores and speaks to snakes as you do… He even invented a written form of Parseltongue he was teaching to Draco when they were but 8 years old…” He hoped it would be enough of a start to keep himself and his family out of trouble, and the Dark Lord was indeed intrigued.

His original response to such rumours had been a rather consuming anger at the thought of his most loyal turning against him in such a definite way, but if the boy had been brought up to no longer be a danger to them and their cause… “Lucius… You pleasse me in this endeavor,” he paused and frowned at the shiver that ran through the blonde. “But that does not mean that you will be excused so easily for your actions.What you have said here means little. It will depend on the child himself. You will send him in and wait at the door, am I understood?”

Lucius would never argue with his Master, and knew that he had indeed spoken the truth, so he got to his feet without another word, going to call for both boys. He needed to speak with Harry shortly before he could send him in, but… The boy was truly Dark.

Harry had heard the prejudice against them, he had seen the way they were treated during the period in which Narcissa fought to be given guardianship in Sirius’s stead. When the boy met the Minister of Magic for the first time, the naturally happy and curious child had been capable of speaking for himself, and he had aid in no uncertain terms that any attempts to remove him from the Malfoy’s would end rather badly for those involved, because he didn’t WANT to be moved. They had saved him, and he made that very clear to everyone listening, the official investigation into the Dursleys starting the very next day.

It wasn’t that Lucius would be scared for the child to not show that he was one of them. He wasn’t even scared of the child not knowing how to address their Lord, as this had been established. No one thought the Dark Lord was dead, or their Marks would not be simply faded, but gone. They were tied to his magical core, after all, Harry had confirmed that just by looking at the Mark. He was scared that his master would hurt the boy, however. They had never been able to train him into not showing his emotions as plainly as day on his face, and Lucius knew this was partially because the boy was rather poor at Occlumency. Some had it naturally, and others didn’t, and he was disappointed to find out Harry didn’t, but that would just mean being careful around people.

Lucius was quick to send Draco up to his room when the boys arrived, and watched him go before speaking softly and quickly as he walked Harry to his office. “Harry. You have a visitor in my office. Our Lord has decided he wants to speak with you. Tell him all he asks for, Harry, don’t hold back. Remember what Cissa has taught you about manners.” He watched the boy’s eyes widen and take on a scared look for a moment, before the 10-year-old nodded and frowned.

“I won’t disappoint you, Father.” He had taken to calling them Father and Mother when he was 6, knowing that they weren’t really, but wanting to anyway. It brought pride to them both when he did so, and Lucius nodded, motioning him into the study. It would be up to Harry now, but he was capable of handling this himself. He was Harry Potter, after all.

***

“My Lord.” The boy knelt as soon as the door was closed behind him. To the Dark Lord, seeing the one who the prophecy that ruined his rule had named his “equal” kneeling in front of him was both pleasing and slightly unsettling. He was impressed by the swift compliance, however, and knew that this was truly something that Lucius would deserve to be rewarded for. He didn't have time for that at the moment, though.  
*Stand. And come here.* He ordered coldly, in Parseltongue. That was the best way to gauge the boy's abilities in the language, and it had been a long time since he'd had someone who could understand him around. His pathetic family was the last of the snake-speakers, after all. That this boy felt familiar in the same way his beloved Nagini did, as well, lead him to quickly conclude that perhaps this child was indeed his… “equal.” In that the child held a bit of his soul inside of him.

Harry had never actually heard another human speaking in the snake-tongue before, and found himself almost giddy with excitement as he stood and approached the Dark Lord. *Yes, my Lord.* he spoke back, deciding that such would be appropriate in Parseltongue. He got a narrow eyed look for that, but couldn't hold back his grin at the chance, and this not only confused the Dark Lord, but intrigued him.

The child wasn't afraid of him… and while usually that meant that some fear needed be put into the boy, Voldemort decided that this would indeed work in his favor. *So you are a speaker.* He waited for the child to be close enough and then made eye contact, dipping into the younger’s mind. *Let's see what else you can do.* He came first upon a memory of flying, it seemed that was what Potter had been doing before he was called in, but he swiftly turned from that, rummaging for other things. Taking in the boy's life up until he was 5 was enough to make the Dark Lord's blood boil with rage, but when he saw the connection that had been made with his most trusted of followers, almost all of the Inner Circle for that matter, through alliances or friendships of children, he was reluctantly impressed by the way the boy seemed to handle himself. Perhaps use would come of this after all.

He finally settled on the oddity that was his ability to see magical cores in people, noting that there had been no glow to the terrible Muggles and that some people had less of one than others. He saw those of his followers, noting the large amount of potential in their offspring, and couldn't resist a glimpse at his own. Which was… different that he had expected. It was, of course, because it was the magical core of his host the boy had seen, a sickly green with yellow flecks through it, not as bright as even Narcissa. He pulled out of the boy's head with an unsatisfied grumble.

*Kneel, child.* He commanded, frowning in thought. *You have been made aware, by Severus, of the prophecy he heard pertaining to you and I. You have known that it calls you my equal. It is, of course, mistaken. You, boy, are a receptacle. Marked as my own by the scar on your head, you carry within yourself a piece of myself from the night that I came to kill you. As such, you are to be mine. You will be diligent and studious and when the time comes for my rule to take effect, you will stand with the Dark. Do you understand?*

Harry could feel the sealing magic in those words, green eyes wide as he nodded quickly. *Yes, my Lord.* He whispered, letting the magic seal those words in his head and his promise into his own core, delighting in the chill that came with the touch of that Dark magic. It was always a thrill, and he found himself once again giddy, despite having just sold his soul to whom many considered the devil. *My Lord, if I may ask a question?* He chanced a glance upwards, watching for the nod that he received. *Your host is dying, my Lord. I can see it in his magical core. It is... rotting. Is there no way that you can get a new body? Your own, that won't give you so little time?* He felt almost worried to have said as much, but he knew that the Dark Lord had to be feeling the strain on the body he kept. And he knew that Voldemort, more than anyone else in their lifetime, would be the best chance they had at taking back the wizarding world before they were found by the Muggles, so to see him in such a state was… well, rather disconcerting to Harry.

*I have my plans, and that's all you need to know. You are dismissed. Send Lucius back in, child.* He watched the boy go with rather muted but still mixed emotions. He felt that he had just sealed their victory, though part of him wanted to hide the boy away, to protect his soul. He would have to keep a close watch on the Potter, and that would fit in rather nicely with his plans.

***  
The schooling of tutors was quick to slow and finally stop when the boys got their Hogwarts letters. It was a month before Harry’s birthday that they got them, on the 1st of July, and both boys were over-excited about it, hinting about Diagon Alley for the whole month until they finally went. It was Harry’s birthday, and they spent it picking out books and fantasizing about brooms and getting their supplies, Harry finding a beautiful Albanian Python at the pet shop that he sweet-talked into coming with him to school, Draco talking his parents into the Puffskein that had taken to hiding in his pocket as he looked at them.

Then came time to get their wands.

Draco went first, Harry looking at the wands around them, and he watched the connection made as soon as Draco picked up his wand. It was a perfect match for him, bonding easily, Hawthorn and Unicorn hair, 10”. “Reasonably pliant,” Ollivander called it. Harry, however, noticed the interesting phenomena of Draco's magical core changing ever so slightly when he found the right wand. It had been more sporadic before, and now smoothed out to a bright glow, already the size of his mother's, and the light blue that it had been seemed to be tainted with flickers of green when he waved the wand for the first time. He watched in awe, wondering if that was what happened every time someone found their wand. It wasn't like there was anyone he could ask about it, though.

Harry had noticed a magical buzz in the back of his mind, and followed it as that got squared away. He ran into a wall at the edge of it, however, and was brought out of his musings by the odd little wand maker, Ollivander, asking him to hold out his wand arm for measurements. He complied and waited a short while for the man to bring him wands to test. He looked at each and shook his head with a frown. “No, none of these are right. Their magic isn't strong enough.” He commented, testing each anyway. This seemed to get the wand smith's attention.

“You can tell by looking at them, can't you? Another Black magic sensitive?” This seemed to please Ollivander, and he went bustling about behind his his counter for a moment more before they heard him mumble to himself, “I wonder…” The man returned with a box in hand that caught Harry's attention immediately, and the buzzing in his head seemed to get rather excited about it as well. “Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches. Nice and supple, Mr. Potter.” He offered the boy the wand, watching him closely, and everyone could see the moment it chose him, wind rustling through the store and a warm rush flowing through him from his hand. “Curious. Very curious.” Ollivander commented, starting a small conversation with Lucius about the wand, but Harry himself could no longer hear anything of the sort.

•And to think I almost killed you, boy.• A voice in his head spoke, and Harry recognized it as being from the origin of the buzzing noise, replacing it, it seemed.

•And why would me getting my wand make me any less likely to be killed?• Harry questioned, possibly foolishly. Most people would think arguing with voices in your head was a sign of being mental, but Harry thought a sign of being mental was to not argue with them when they spoke. Not that they had before now, in that way at least, but Harry still thought about it now. His thoughts were interrupted by a deep chuckle in his mind that sent chills through him worse than any strong cold wind could.

•If you must know. We have quite the bond, it would seem. You being a part of my soul now, as well as speaking Parseltongue, and now we have wands that share a core bond. Also, your familiar is of the same species as mine is. Mine is just magical, while yours is not. How interesting.• The voice did appear to genuinely find it so, and Harry felt a bit of confusion that he was not entirely sure was his own. •Maybe that prophesy my true self spoke of was not as rubbish as he seemed to believe it to be. He is a tad mad, having been wandering around without a body for so long.•

Ah, now it clicked. The soul that Voldemort had been speaking of. But he hadn't been prepared for it to speak to him, frowning and coming his head to the side, much to the confusion of Draco, who was trying to get his attention now. “Harry, come on, it's time to go.” The blonde said, laying a hand on his shoulder, and that brought Harry out of his mind and back to the world with a smile.

“Can we go to Fortescue's, Mother?” Harry turned to see her smiling at the two of them, and she sighed proudly.

“Another day, darlings, we still have a month before you go to Hogwarts, but we need to get you home so we can check on the preparation of the party tonight.” She lead them out after Lucius had paid Ollivander for both wands, and stepped back to walk next to him when they started to chatter happily about Hogwarts. “I don't think I've ever seen two children happier.” She remarked to her husband, slipping a hand through his arm.

And they certainly were. They would even get to remain that happy for some time to come, though they didn't know of the hardships ahead of them. For then, they would laugh and sing silly songs to each other around the house and play games with their friends, inventing the rules as it suited them. And then it was September 1st, and their lives would be changing forever.


	3. Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *parseltongue*  
> •thought-speaking•

“You packed last night, I thought.” Harry knew that Narcissa would skin him alive if she heard him speaking in such a manner, but Draco never told when he felt like doing so. He was sure the other boy had been packed and ready for at least a week, though, and wasn't sure why he was panicking now, at 6am on the day they'd be leaving.

 

“Of course I was packed last night, Harry, we both know the other has been packed and waiting for this for a week now.” Draco have Harry a Look, just like his mother with his facial expression, and Harry sheepishly acknowledged that okay, yes, he had also been packed for a week. But Draco just continued with his thought. “I can't shake the feeling that there is something I'm missing here, though. I've been repacking everything since 5 and I can't figure out what I'd be forgetting.”

 

Harry grinned and plopped onto the blonde's bed. “Did you bring you special pillow?” He teased lightly, knowing it was already packed. “Or that stuffed dragon you've been carrying around since either of us can remember?” He watched the pink tinge that came all the way up to Draco's ears, giggling and preparing himself just moments before his brother jumped on him, wrestling around. It was a normal occurrence.

 

A delicate laugh from the doorway broke them apart, as Narcissa entered the room. “Get dressed, both of you! Your Aunt Bella has insisted on seeing you this morning, and is coming for breakfast, and Rabastan and Rodolphus will be with her.” They didn't get those visits often, the Lestranges having to be careful to not be caught out.

 

“Aunt Bella is coming?” Harry piped up, jumping off Draco and grinning as they other scrambled to his feet as well. “When will she be here? Soon?” The youngest of their household sometimes asked far too many questions, and he stopped short of another as the door to the room flew open again.

 

“I'm already heerrreee, darling!” The black-haired woman burst through the door and twirled herself in, jumping to land on Draco's bed. She cackled delightedly to herself as her entrance brought both the Potter and Malfoy to her quickly. She was insane, indeed, but that also came with a terrible loyalty that knew no bounds. She had always wanted a child of her own, but had found out after a year of attempts that she would never be able to carry one, and she had then basically claimed Harry as her own.

 

“Aunt Bella, did you come to send us off to Hogwarts?” Draco piped up, sitting on the bed, next to the woman.

 

“Absolutely not! I came to keep you to myself, of course!” The woman grabbed him and threw him onto the pillows, showing off her legendary strength. “And you!” She turned as Draco laughed, pulling Harry into a spin as she had done at their first meeting. It was something he had become accustomed to. “You get to meet your ickle little Light Lord today, Harry, aren't you just  enraptured ?”

 

Her voice had turned sickly sweet, bringing laughter bubbling in Harry that he had had a hard time tapping into since the occasion with the voice in his head, but now he let it bubble out of him with joy. The woman had always been able to bring a grin to his face, even if she was often a rather terrible influence. “Of course I am, Bella, you know how much I absolutely  adore Dumbledore and his posse of Lights!” He teased back, getting a laugh out of his Aunt.

 

“Little Harry! How are you ever going to live up to your reputation? You surely should be larger than this! Have you shrunk since we last saw you?” Bellatrix giggled to herself as Harry huffed and crossed his arms.

 

“I am a perfectly average height for an 11-year-old, thank you!” Harry huffed and pouted, getting another laugh from both Bellatrix and Draco, who had stayed sprawled on his bed. It was rare that they got to see their Aunt, and they both allowed themselves to be quite a bit more childlike when they got that chance.

 

After Harry got over his indignation and they had all had their fill of laughs, Bellatrix meeting his beautiful Amara for the first time and cooing over the snake, who really loved the attention, they went down for breakfast. Being 10 minutes late to a Malfoy breakfast was cause for reproach, but the occasion got them off with a stern look from Narcissa, and then time passed more quickly than they could have anticipated until, suddenly, they were on the train, in a compartment with their friends, on the way to Hogwarts.

 

***

 

Hogwarts. The castle was magnificent. It was old, older than anyone knew, for that matter. The Founders themselves hadn't even known how old the castle was, in their time. It had just been a property of the Peverell family, ancestor of them all, for as long as could be remembered. So they decided that Hogwarts, the castle that almost seemed sentient even when it was at its most still, was the place to start their school.

 

Slytherin didn't build the Chamber of Secrets. He found it. He was prone to midnight walks in those early days of their plan, staying up until the break of dawn some days, wandering the castle. And one of the wanderings lead him into a portrait passage that he hadn't noticed before, a portrait of a tree with a dragon wrapped around the base. That was where he found the underground passage that lead him to a chamber he could call his own.

 

At the same time, Gryffindor was finding a room on the very opposite end of the castle, on the 7th floor, a room that seemed to come and go as it was needed, and that filled every requirement of the need. He, too, was prone to midnight rambles, and he returned night after night to the room that settled his mind and gave him what he needed to accomplish his goals, the plan to create a school for all magical children where they would be safe from the Muggles that sought to harm them. It was going to help them all. And the four of them were almost there.

 

When Hogwarts first opened, the Founders didn't have a plan for sorting the children to teach them. They chose who was best suited to be taught by them personally, and each taught about what they thought was most important in life as well as what the children needed to know about magic. And the castle thrived in the magic-soaked atmosphere it had missed for so long. And it became more and more sentient and complex and magical.

 

The children loved all the little things about it. Staircases moving and corridors changing, making rooms and deleting them, the castle pulled out all the stops for the children it housed. It delighted when the children found the passages it created, and one Yule morning they all woke up to the ceiling of the Great Hall being as cloudy as the sky outside and snowing gently, the snow disappearing just before it touched any surface.

 

This sight, the sky inside the Great Hall with a moon as bright as it was outside, was enough to steal the breath of every first years in 1991. Harry and Draco were among these 11-year-olds, and were just as amazed by the beauty of Hogwarts as all the others.  Harry had nearly fainted when they caught sight of the castle, the magical aura it gave off being stronger and larger than anything he'd seen before. The magic flowed so freely, not held down by a channel like any wanded wizard, not erratic like a child's, but somewhere in between the two. It was amazing.

 

And then the hat on the stool in the front of the hall started to sing.

 

“A thousand years or more ago   
When I was newly sewn,   
There lived four wizards of renown,   
Whose names are still well known:   
  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,   
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,   
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,   
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.   
  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,   
They hatched a daring plan   
To educate young sorcerers   
Thus Hogwarts School began.   
  
Now each of these four founders   
Formed their own house, for each   
Did value different virtues   
In the ones they had to teach.   
  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were   
Prized far beyond the rest;   
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest   
Would always be the best;   
  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were   
Most worthy of admission;   
And power-hungry Slytherin   
Loved those of great ambition.   
  
While still alive they did divide   
Their favourites from the throng,   
Yet how to pick the worthy ones   
When they were dead and gone?   
  
Twas Gryffindor who found the way,   
He whipped me off his head   
The founders put some brains in me   
So I could choose instead!   
  
Now slip me snug about your ears,   
I've never yet been wrong,   
I'll have a look inside your mind   
And tell where you belong!”

The hat finished up to murmurs and astonished looks from the first year students. And the sorting started.

“Abbott, Hannah.” The Deputy Headmistress started. And so it went. Draco was sure he would be a Slytherin. Harry was… uncertain, of the course the hat would take with him. He thought it would be Slytherin, but he did tend to rush into trouble and was often teased about being a soft-hearted Lion by his family. They claimed he had a “saving people thing”, which was possibly true.

Then Draco was called, and the hat had barely touched his head before yelling out his house. “SLYTHERIN!”

And Harry was then paying close attention as a few others were sorted before his turn. He was nearly shaking with excitement, seeing the magic infused into the hat, and when his name was called he had to remember his mother's training to remain poised and responsible.

•Oh, yes, another Potter, eh? But very different from the last, I see…• The hat some into his head, causing Harry to blink and glance up at the brim of it before thinking back.

•Yes, I'm Harry. Pleased to meet you. And your name, Mr. Sorting Hat? I assume you have one, that is.• Harry knew this jar would decide his future today, and has been told to respect those that had power over him, though he did sometimes fail to do so and suffered for it. The hat seemed to pause for a moment, though, causing him to fidget.

•Not many ask for my name. But it is Alistair, of you must know. You are indeed a tricky one… and you seem to be aware of your own problems within the sorting system. How very Ravenclaw… but no, that isn't your House. You aren't a Hufflepuff either, it seems, though you are loyal enough. You could be great with the help of Slytherin… but you're also very suited to Gryffindor. You're the most tricky mind over come across in quite a few years, young Potter. Slytherin could make you great. But you don't seem to want power. You want… strength. And for such odd reasons, I see. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about who you wish to impress. However, I do have you sorted...• Harry didn't interrupt the hat as it mused, listening in fascination and slight anxiety to his monologue. •Better be• “GRYFFINDOR!”

Claps and shouts went up from the tables, slightly louder, it seemed, than for the students before him. He wasn't entirely sure how the lions would feel about him when they realized he wasn't all they thought he would be, but for then he just headed quickly to the table on the far right of the Great Hall and sat next to a girl with bushy brown hair and Neville Longbottom, a boy he found himself feeling slightly bad to meet in, but who had an amazingly impressive magical core. He introduced himself to the girl, a Hermione Granger, and knew her to be a Muggleborn from her manner and the lack of recognition on her face, but her core was a beautifully bright yellow with bits of green floating amiably through it, and he wondered how much it would take to convince his family of the equality of Muggleborns from showing them her core next to that of Pansy Parkinson, whose magic was much duller from generations of inbreeding.

The last Gryffindor took his seat, a ginger that could only be a Weasley, and the sorting was over soon after. Harry got odd looks for still clapping enthusiastically as his Slytherin friend Blaise Zabini was sorted, but he just ignored them rather happily. At the end, Dumbledore made some rather odd comments, and then the feast began with a flourish, the tables filling with food. Harry had taken a moment to focus on the Light Lord, though.

He was honestly just a tad disappointed in what he saw in the old wizard, was this really their worst competition? He reminded Harry of a grandfather, and his magical core was very… odd. It wasn't as bright as he had assumed it would be, but it was very light still. Not like Narcissa’s silvery core or Draco's blue. It seemed to be a very faded shade of green, and there were some orange flecks through it, but it also has a ring around the edge of it of a rather unfittingly bright red. He had seen cores like that before, and he knew it meant a bond to a magical familiar, and a strong one, from the vibrancy. But the strangest thing, and what he felt the urge to write to home about, was the… brittle feeling that core gave him. It seemed to be actually crumbling around the edges, and Harry watched it closely as he spoke, seeing what appeared to be Particles of magic floating off every minute or so. Dumbledore was sick? Or just old? He wasn't sure, but he knew that he had to tell his father. He came to this conclusion just as the speaking ended in gibberish and the tables filled.

“S-so, Harry, did you th-think you'd be put in Slytherin after living with the M-Malfoys?” Neville was obviously not very accustomed to speaking to someone he didn't know, but the younger boy did seem just curious rather than rude with his question, so Harry smiled and shrugged.

“Oh, I've always been rather odd to them. Like when Pansy's kneazle kitten wouldn't climb out of a tree it had wanted to explore, so I went up after it and would have broken my wrist in the fall if it wasn't for some accidental magic. They all thought I'd be a Lion.” He dipped food onto his plate as he spoke, and knew that more than just Neville would be listening. In fact, a pair of red-haired twins stood up and shoved the youngest Weasley male up the bench, sitting in front of Harry instead.

“Oh is that-”

“-so? In that-”

“-case, how would you-”

“-like us to share-”

“-a little survival tip with you?”

The twins switched off during their sentence, finishing together, but Harry was looking at the cores of the two and not particularly paying attention. Their magic was… entwined. He'd never seen it before. And where the younger Weasley had a core of a mild blue, little bits of pink streaking through it from his wand, the twins core were larger and brighter, and not just in a way that showed age. One had a core of electric blue, with bits of orange in it, the other had a new-grass-green core, with particles of yellow, and in the space they shared, their cores seemed to merge, swirling together in a way he could only call happily.

He snapped back to the conversation to look at them blankly for a moment. “I would love some tips.” He decided then to befriend these two, wanting to study them. They were so different… it would be interesting. Even if their family was full of blood traitors. “But I must ask first… Your names?” He watched them exchange a glance, their magics mingling even more for a moment before they grinned at him.

“I'm Fred!”

“I'm George!”

They said simultaneously, probably a diversion tactic, but Harry got his answer anyways, nodding and giving them a small smile.

“Pleased to meet you, then.” He held his hand out to the blue twin. “Fred.” He watched the shock turn into excitement on their faces, and Fred shook his hand. “And George.” He smiled at them both as he took the green twin's hand then. They would be good allies, at the very least.

Just then he felt a sliding around his arm under his robes and realized that Amara must have smelled the meat on the table, the young 3 foot Python poking her head out of his robes. *Hello, there. Did you smell something you like?* He mused, ignoring the looks of alarm he was getting as he pulled her from his shoulder and let her curl in his lap.

*Meat… bird? You woke me with all this noise. Feed me.* Sometimes she was more grumpy than others, and he dutifully tore a piece of chicken off for her. *.....Thanks,* she finally conceded, nuzzling his hand before taking the chicken.

*Of course, Amara, you know I'll always feed you when you want.* He had made that rule from the stark memories of gnawing Hunger before the Malfoys, and he always followed it.

“I didn't know we were allowed other pets.” Hermione piped up quickly and looked at the snake in interest rather than the disgust or fear from most of the other neighboring students. Fred and George were whispering to each other as they watched Harry’s interactions with the snake, and Neville seemed to be rather… well, he took it surprisingly well. And he was the one to answer.

“W-we aren't supposed to have a pet other than a toad, owl, or cat, b-but we can bring a-um… a familiar, if we have one.” He stuttered out, and seemed to relax a bit more after that. “Familiars can be c-controlled better than just a pet… it's connected to your m-magic.” He explained, and Hermione's eyes lit up at the new information.

“Really? Connected to your magic? And this is your familiar? Does that extend its lifespan? What happens if it gets killed? What happens if  you get killed?” She stopped short at the flat looks on both faces, blushing. “Sorry, I… like to know things.” She mumbled, going back to her food, but smiling back at the two when she got smiles for that.

“Everyone should like to know things.” Harry agreed and thought about her questions for a moment. “I don't know everything about familiars. But I do know we have a book or two on them in the Malfoy library. I could request that Mother send me a few , if you'd like. I doubt the library here would have anything outside the restricted section. It's not a very common practice anymore. Most people think it's a Dark trait.” He looked for a betrayal of distrust on the faces of his new friends, but only got nods, but the other Weasley apparently had been listening to them.

“And you have a snake as a familiar? Sounds Dark to me! Looks like those lousy Malfoy gits corrupted you after all!” The ignorant ginger first year huffed and scowled at Harry, but got smacks on the back of his head from both twins.

“Oh, hush, you-”

“-or we'll mail mother about-”

“-your obvious lack of respect-”

“-for a Potter heir!”

The twins have him stern looks, getting a laugh from Harry, which caused them to both look at him in surprise. “Because I'm the Potter Heir. Merlin, that's refreshing.” He grinned at the twins and got winks back, the food changing to dessert on the table. Amara had gotten enough chicken, though, and was snoring softly on his lap, so he just helped himself to some Treacle Tart, humming in contentment. 

It seemed being a Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
